I'm Sticking With You
by BlackBirdPie
Summary: Lorelai and Chris, a scene from their high school. *Warning* violent paper flicking involved, along with gum related vandalism, and possible truancy? You've been warned. T for swearing.


**This little ditty has been taking up space on my desktop for some time now...it's just some Lorelai and Chris, back in their teenage years, and is _hinted _that this is the day of Rory's conception. The story title is from the song "I'm Sticking With You", by, of course, the Velvet Underground, but the fic's not an interpretation of the song, they just kind of worked together. **

**I'm Sticking With You**

_Flick._

It grazed the side of his head, he scratched at his ear, she let herself grin a little. He was annoyed, but the real chaos she was after had yet to ensue.

She crunched up another three more pieces of paper, stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth in concentration, _flick_, _flick_, _flick_. A triple attack.

She could see his frown from her seat…any second now…

_Flick._

"Miss Gilmore?" She hadn't noticed that the teacher had called on her about twenty seconds ago, because really, paper flicking was pretty intense, and required a full level of concentration if executed properly.

"Yes, Ms. _Hoff_man?" She always pronounced the 'Hoff" with a Russian accent, something she found a lot more amusing than the teacher.

"Was that backtalk?"

"No, it vas Dr. Zhivago, madame." Her accent was once again met with silence, only her earlier victim, Chris, was shaking his head, smiling.

The teacher was silent for a few more seconds.

"To the headmaster's Miss Gilmore." Her voice was tight, and lips were trembling.

There was a quiet _ohh _noise from the rest of the class. Mainly led my Mindy McBimbo.

God, how Lorelai hated her. And her pearl necklace. Lorelai tugged down her own tee-shirt, which had a giant picture of Elton Jon on it, her blazer covered up the words on the back, which made it _really _inappropriate for school, and she had on everything else she was required, so they technically couldn't do anything.

It had only taken her and Chris two hours to find _that_ loophole in the rulebook one night.

She sighed, the Gilmore's were really going to love this one.

There was a trophy case that Lorelai liked to stick her gum under every time she went to the office, her own way of keeping track, immortalizing her glorious days at this torture center.

One day, she decided, she was going to expose this place for what it really was. Maybe she would be a journalist. And write about how this ridiculously expensive private school wasn't really a high school; but an assembly line, producing the next generation of the crème de la crop robots. Conservative rich people her ass. There's no way people, real people, could so effectively conform.

There were seven neat pieces all lined up at the edge of the trophy case, varying in colors from pink, to red, to blue. There were cracked and dried and didn't look like they belonged there. She smiled and added the eighth piece.

"That's makes nine of us." She whispered.

"Are you talking to the trophies?" A voice came from behind her, alarmingly close to her ear.

"Holy shit." She jumped and turned around. Christopher.

A slow grin creeped over his face.

"Where're you going?" She asked. He shrugged and held up a bathroom pass.

"Hmm. It would really be too bad if you got lost on the way to the bathroom."

"Yeah, it would probably be much better if you tried to show me where to go. Those bathrooms always seem to be moving…"

"In one hallway one second." She said, a wicked grin beginning.

"The parking lot the next."

"The music store even later."

"Or better yet," He said, sliding his hands up her side. "Your room."

"You know," Her face was inches from his. "I was wondering why I woke up with a sink by my head this morning. It didn't really seem like it'd be something Emily would go for in the decorating department."

She ducked under his arms, raising her eyebrows. "So, music store it is then?"

He smiled, following her none the less. Because Chris always followed Lorelai, anywhere. She could probably lead him off a cliff, and he'd go down grinning. The guys always said he was whipped. He just thought he'd be an idiot to do anything differently. "Tease." He called out.

"Well, Mr. Hayden we might need some…mood music. For later."

His look turned questioning.

"With you there, and me there, and some Velvet Underground…"

"Velvet Underground is your mood music?"

"Lou Reed really does it for me."

"Well, I've always preferred Cher."

Lorelai narrowed her eyes. "Don't go there."

"I think it's the black hair." He said, looking thoughtful. "And she has such a way with words."

"Shut, your pie hole."

"Did you know, that she said punk would replace suicide—"

"Guess we don't need mood music after all." She turned on her heels, walking down the hallway, grinning as she head him running, trying to catch up with her.

"Did I mention I think Cher was an idiot!"

He skids to a stop in front of her.

"Is that where you were going with that?"

"Uh huh. She had terrible taste in music."

"Oh?"

"And Lou Reed is very…sexy?"

Lorelai snorts.

"But," He leans in to her ear. "Not near as sexy as someone else I know."

"Is it Mindy?"

"No." He smiles, moving closer to her. Finally catching her lips with his.

"Tonight." She murmurs against him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Okay."

"I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"


End file.
